#also these are the same episode which just makes it better

[respectthepetty]

I crawled through sixteen episodes of Fourever You, so I could drag myself into the finale for THIS color coding! I had my doubts in some of these episodes, but here I am, living my best color-coded life because North is a Green Guy and Johan IS a Red Rascal.

And now that they are together, they perfectly complement each other as two chile peppers would!

Hill and Ter are also two great color-coded boys in love since bright and happy Yellow Yal Ter brought reserved and quiet Blue Boy Hill out of his shell.

EVERYONE IS COLOR CODED AND IN LOVE!

Well, expect for Typhoon, but his sad story is coming in Part Two, which I better be getting this year like Director New said. Or else!

Because I also want to know about his little friend Dao's spicy story with Arthit!

Oh, and apparently the continuation of Tiger and Duennao's story too.

Since they still aren't a couple; they just act like it six days a week.

But back to the couples who are official couples being cute.

Well, and Johan being so possessive that he won't even let his mom hug North. Peak Red Rascal behavior. Love to see it in fictional men.

Johan keeps up the behavior when they go home to visit their families. He hides his Green Guy behind him as he tries to not act his red color.

But that doesn't last long since he argues with his father at the slightest hint of his man's name on his dad's lips.

So even though The Alamo shirt looks blue, it feels green to me since North is truly the only thing keeping his man calm at any given moment.

All Johan needs is to look at North, and the entire world ceases to exist. Look at Johan. He ain't listening. He hasn't heard one word from North's pretty little mouth.

All he heard was North would leave him, and he jumped into sugar daddy mode. He said, "take all my money because I already gave you my heart." North, buy a bouncy house. No! A bouncy CASTLE! Use that man's money for good.

And invite your bestie Ter since he is going through it as he visits not only his family which includes the dad who yelled at him for being gay, but also Hill's family which includes the grandpa who separated them for being gay. It's a homophobe hoedown.

I know it's a lot, but they have each other!

And Ter has a sister and a mom rooting for them as the mom wears Hill's blue, and the sister is basically a Pride flag.

Plus Hill's grandma is not only supportive, but she kept the blue birthday jar Ter gave Hill in his room, so the women in these families are getting a spring wedding from these two even if Hill and Ter don't know it yet.

But I think these color-coded boys in love know it.

Well, at least Hill does.

Because his grandmother gave him the same necklace that his dad gave his mom when he knew she was the one.

And Hill has always known this pretty boy is the only one for him.

Sidenote: I actually gasped at how beautiful and young Cooheart looks here. That twenty-eight year old does not look a day over seventeen.

Kudos, Yellow Yal, for being the sun in Hill's blue sky, the star guiding him at all times, and the moon in his dark night. Way to be that man's everything, so now he can give you everything (like a bouncy castle!).

And even if Johan and North never get married, I'm sure they will be together forever too.

Since North probably already unknowingly signed no less than sixteen documents that Johan had his lawyers draw up which makes it legal for Johan to own North in at least twenty-three countries regardless of martial status and escape is punishable by death so . . . 'til death do you part, North. Congratulations, buddy!

Basically, every color-coded boy in love got his happy ending, and I was thrilled to witness it.

NOW BRING ME PART TWO!

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling? part 2

summary: You and Peter have known each other since you were kids—only because you were friends with his distant cousin Olivia. While you have harbored a crush on him for years, you're sure he doesn't feel the same.

word count: 15.3k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: this is the second part to this (long) oneshot since tumblr has a word limit. the summary and warning/tags are the same

warnings/tags: loosely follows event of scoop (2006) but not canon, miscommunication, shy!reader, slow burn, jealousy, angst, mention of murder/death, toxic peter lyman, but also sweet peter lyman (the duality of man), happy ending, not proofread

⁠♡ part 1 ♡

You had taken off work for a few days, ruminating in what felt like heartbreak. Luckily you were someone who almost never took off work, so you had more than enough hours piled up to use.

The TV played reruns of Doctor Who while you ate out of a tub of ice cream, staring blankly at the screen. You weren’t even sure which episode you were watching; it all blurred together in the haze of your thoughts. The sound of the doorbell broke through, and you froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth.

You sighed, setting the ice cream down and dragging yourself to the door. Peeking through the peephole, you felt your breath hitch. It was Peter.

He stood there, impossibly calm, dressed casually but still somehow looking polished. His hand rested lightly against the doorframe, and for a moment, he seemed to glance around the hallway as if debating whether to knock again.

Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, but you didn’t open the door. You didn’t even say anything, staying completely still as you stared through the peephole.

Peter shifted slightly, running a hand through his hair before leaning closer to the door. “Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I saw the light on.”

You stayed silent, leaning against the door for balance.

He sighed, a faint edge of frustration creeping into his tone. “Please, just let me talk to you. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against the lock, but you didn’t move.

“I know I’ve made a mess of things,” Peter continued, his voice quieter now. “But I can’t fix it if you won’t talk to me.”

You leaned your forehead against the door, closing your eyes. The ice cream was melting on the coffee table, the TV droning on in the background, but none of it mattered in this moment.

Peter exhaled sharply, the sound muffled through the door. “Alright,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “If you don’t want to see me, I’ll go. But, Y/N, I need you to know something.”

You tensed, waiting.

“I meant what I said at the garden party,” he said, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability that caught you off guard. “You don’t have to stay with him. You deserve better than Joshua—or anyone else who makes you feel like you’re just… settling.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t move.

“And Jade…” Peter hesitated, his voice faltering for the first time. “That’s nothing. It’s always been nothing. I don’t… I didn’t handle it the right way. But I thought—” He stopped, taking a breath. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does if you don’t believe me.”

Silence fell between you, thick and heavy. Peter waited for a beat longer before stepping back. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said quietly. “But if you change your mind… you know where to find me.”

You heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, but you stayed frozen in place, your forehead still pressed against the door. Your chest ached with the weight of his words, but no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

Not yet.

---

Joshua, over the course of the next week, brought you flowers and takeout, even going as far as cleaning your living room and kitchen while you were at work.

"Y/N," Olivia said on the phone one evening while you sat on the couch surrounded by fresh blooms, the faint smell of lemon cleaner still hanging in the air. "He cleaned your apartment? Like, voluntarily?"

"Yes," you replied, sinking deeper into the cushions. "He said it was no trouble and that he just wanted to help while I was busy with work."

Olivia let out a low whistle. "Wow. That’s… effort. Are you sure he’s not angling for sainthood?"

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. "He’s just thoughtful, Liv. It’s nice."

"Nice," she echoed, her tone skeptical. "You’ve been using that word a lot lately. You sure you’re not just convincing yourself?"

You frowned, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "I don’t know. He’s been really sweet, and he’s easy to talk to. It’s just… I feel like something’s missing."

"Uh, yeah," Olivia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That ‘something’ is probably tall, charming, and currently sulking somewhere because you won’t talk to him."

"Don’t," you warned, closing your eyes.

"Y/N," Olivia pressed. "You can’t avoid Peter forever. He’s not the type to let things go."

"I’m not avoiding him," you said weakly.

"You are, and honestly? I get it. He was a complete ass," Olivia admitted. "But I also know you. You’re still into him, aren’t you?"

You stayed quiet, the weight of her question pressing down on your chest.

"That’s what I thought," Olivia said softly. "Look, I’m not saying you should forgive him or whatever. But maybe you should at least hear him out. If he really feels bad, he’ll make it right."

"Maybe," you murmured, but the doubt still lingered.

"Just think about it," Olivia said before changing the subject to the latest gossip about her coworkers.

---

Two days later, the inevitable happened. You were leaving work, your bag slung over your shoulder as you stepped into the cool evening air. And there he was.

Peter leaned against the side of his car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your steps falter.

"Y/N," he said, straightening as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, your heart hammering in your chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to talk to you," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "Just for a minute. Please."

You hesitated, glancing around as if searching for an escape, but you knew there wasn’t one. With a sigh, you nodded. "Fine. One minute."

Peter’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he took a step closer. "I owe you an apology," he began, his tone earnest. "For everything. For what I said, for what I did… for all of it."

You looked down, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "You hurt me, Peter. You can’t just… say things like that and then do the opposite. It’s not fair."

"I know," he said quickly. "And you’re right. I was out of line. I thought I could—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I could make you see how much I cared by… I don’t even know what I was thinking. But it was stupid, and I’m sorry."

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the genuine regret in his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Peter hesitated, his gaze searching yours. "Because I didn’t know how else to get your attention. I didn’t want to just tell you how I felt and risk losing you altogether."

"Felt?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Feel," he corrected softly, stepping closer. "Y/N, I’ve cared about you for longer than I want to admit. And seeing you with Joshua… it drove me mad. But that doesn’t excuse what I did."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you. "Peter…"

"I don’t expect you to forgive me right away," he said, his voice low. "But I couldn’t let things end the way they did. You mean too much to me."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you blinked them away, nodding slowly. "I don’t know if I can trust you, Peter. Not yet."

"I’ll earn it," he said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "Whatever it takes."

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. It didn’t erase the hurt, but it was enough to let him back in—just a little.

"Okay," you said softly. "But don’t make me regret it."

Peter’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. "I won’t."

---

Over the next week, Peter kept his word. He didn’t overwhelm you with grand gestures, but he was present in small, meaningful ways. He texted to check in, brought you your favorite tea during your lunch break, and even helped Olivia fix her leaky faucet when he visited her apartment.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to remind you of why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

But you still weren’t completely over what he did, which is why when Joshua invited you to his father’s Bonfire Night party you hesitated, before ultimately saying yes.

Olivia stood by you, her gold dress shimmering in the setting sun. “I can’t believe you almost ditched me.”

You adjusted the strap of your dress, avoiding her pointed look. “I wasn’t ditching you. I just… wasn’t sure I wanted to come.”

“Because Peter’s here,” Olivia said flatly, crossing her arms. “And because you’re here with Joshua.”

You winced. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” she shot back, her voice light but sharp. “You like Peter. You’re dating Joshua. And you’re stuck in the world’s most uncomfortable love triangle.”

“Olivia,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “Can we not do this right now?”

She raised an eyebrow, her tone softening slightly. “I’m just saying, Y/N. You’re not going to magically figure this out by avoiding the problem.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you muttered, though even you didn’t believe it.

Olivia sighed dramatically. “Fine. Let’s focus on surviving the party. Smile, mingle, and try not to look like you’re walking on eggshells the whole night.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you said dryly.

“You’re welcome,” she quipped, looping her arm through yours. “Now come on. Joshua’s looking for you.”

You spotted Joshua near one of the fire pits, his easy smile and polished demeanor perfectly suited for the crowd. He waved when he saw you, and you managed a small wave back.

“I’ll catch you later,” Olivia said, giving you a knowing look before slipping into the crowd.

Joshua greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and handed you a glass of champagne. “You look stunning,” he said warmly.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a little stiff. “This party’s… something.”

“Father does enjoy going all out,” Joshua said with a chuckle, his hand resting lightly on your back. “Shall we?”

You nodded, letting him guide you toward a group of guests.

---

It wasn’t long before you saw him. Peter stood near the bar, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look effortlessly sophisticated. He was talking to a small group, his charm on full display, but his eyes flicked to you the moment you entered his line of sight.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the champagne flute in your hand.

“Everything alright?” Joshua asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

“I’ll get us some air later,” he promised, brushing his fingers against yours.

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness, even as your heart raced for entirely different reasons.

---

As the night wore on, you found yourself standing near one of the smaller fire pits, Joshua engaged in a conversation with Lord Westford. You sipped your champagne quietly, your gaze drifting to the crowd.

“Enjoying yourself?” Peter’s voice came from behind you, smooth and calm.

You turned, finding him closer than you expected. “Peter,” you said, your voice slightly breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a party,” he said with a faint smirk. “What are you doing here?”

You frowned. “I was invited.”

“Ah,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly toward Joshua before settling back on you. “Of course.”

“Is there something you need?” you asked, your tone more defensive than you intended.

Peter’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “I wanted to check on you. You aren’t exactly the biggest fan of fireworks.”

Your eyes momentarily widened. Through all your mixed feelings, you had forgotten what today really was. Bonfire Night.

"I…" you started, gripping the edge of your champagne flute. "I’m fine. It’s just a little loud, that’s all."

Peter’s gaze softened, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "You’ve never liked fireworks."

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I’ve gotten better about it."

"Have you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because if memory serves, you’d always end up inside with a book before the first rocket went off."

You glanced away, heat rising to your cheeks. "That was years ago."

"Not that many years," Peter said lightly, tilting his head toward the nearby house. "Come on. Let’s go inside."

"I’m fine," you protested quickly, though your voice wavered. "I don’t need to hide from a few fireworks anymore."

Peter didn’t move, his expression calm but insistent. "It’s not hiding, Y/N. It’s taking care of yourself. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone."

You hesitated, glancing toward the sky where a few bursts of color lit up the night. The sound wasn’t deafening yet, but you could feel the familiar knot forming in your chest.

Peter waited, watching you carefully. "We don’t have to stay inside the whole night," he added softly. "Just long enough to avoid the worst of it. Like old times."

The way he said it—gentle, without judgment—made you waver. He wasn’t pushing, just… offering. And you knew he had your best interests in mind, as he always had when it came to this.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Peter smiled, his relief barely noticeable but there. He held out his hand, not in an exaggerated gesture, but simple and natural, like he’d done a hundred times before.

You didn’t hesitate long before slipping your hand into his.

---

Inside the house, the noise from outside was muffled, the steady hum of distant conversations replacing the sharp pops and whistles of the fireworks. Peter led you to a quiet sitting room with a plush sofa and an unlit fireplace.

“Better?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, taking a seat on the sofa. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter settled into the armchair across from you, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive. “You always hated the noise,” he said, his tone casual. “Even when Olivia and I tried to drag you outside to watch.”

“You didn’t try that hard,” you pointed out, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You usually gave up after five minutes and left me alone.”

Peter chuckled. “Fair. Olivia’s the persistent one.”

You shook your head, leaning back against the cushions. “She still is. She made me come tonight, even though I wasn’t sure…” You trailed off, catching yourself.

Peter’s expression softened, but he didn’t press. “I’m glad you did,” he said after a moment. “It’s nice to see you outside of work or… tense situations.”

You glanced at him, your cheeks warming. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet was comfortable, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

Peter broke it first, his voice low. “Do you remember that time Olivia dared me to set off fireworks in her backyard? You were so mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad,” you said quickly, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “I was terrified. You nearly burned down her dad’s shed.”

“Nearly,” Peter emphasized, his grin widening. “And I apologized. Multiple times.”

“You should’ve apologized to her dad,” you teased. “I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t trust you near anything flammable.”

Peter laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Probably not. But it was worth it to see Olivia’s face when the rocket tipped over.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said lightly, his gaze steady on yours. “But you’re smiling. That’s progress.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat under his watchful eyes. “Thanks for… this,” you said softly, gesturing to the quiet room around you. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

Peter leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Anytime, Y/N. You know that.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you looked away, suddenly shy. “We should probably head back soon,” you said, though you made no move to leave.

“Not yet,” Peter said gently. “Let’s give it a few more minutes. You deserve a break.”

You glanced at him, his expression calm and unhurried, and nodded. “Alright. A few more minutes.”

As the muffled sound of fireworks continued outside, you let yourself relax, grateful for the quiet—and for Peter.

---

“No, to the right. Now a little to the left… and, stop! Right there.” Olivia looked over at you, “ah, don’t you just love Christmas?”

You took a sip of your eggnog. “You mean the one time every year where your parents let you decorate for the Christmas party and you get to be your true, controlling self?”

Olivia smirked, adjusting the garland draped over the banister. “Exactly. They’re too busy hosting to care, and I get to make this place look perfect. It’s a win-win.”

You laughed softly, watching as she repositioned an ornament for the third time. “It’s a little terrifying how seriously you take this.”

“Hey, you’re drinking my eggnog, so I don’t want to hear it,” Olivia retorted, sticking her tongue out at you.

“Fair point,” you admitted, raising your glass in mock salute.

Just then, the front door opened, and the familiar sound of Peter’s voice carried through the entryway. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Peter!” Olivia called, her tone sharp but playful. “You’re always late. You’re just lucky the party hasn’t officially started yet.”

Peter stepped into the living room, shrugging out of his coat. He wore a dark sweater that hugged his frame just right, and the effortless confidence in his stride made your chest tighten. “Fashionably late,” he corrected, hanging his coat on the rack. His eyes found you almost immediately. “Y/N. I didn’t realize you’d be here so early.”

You held up your eggnog as if it were an explanation. “Olivia bribed me with holiday cheer.”

“And she’s been an excellent assistant,” Olivia added, grinning. “Even if she’s a bit snarky.”

Peter chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I’d expect nothing less.”

You glanced down at your glass, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “Are you staying for the party?” you asked, your voice quieter than intended.

“Of course,” Peter replied, his tone warm. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Olivia interjected, hands on her hips. “Because you’re helping me hang the lights. Y/N’s been slacking.”

“Hey!” you protested, but Olivia just winked at you.

Peter’s smirk widened. “I’m happy to help.” He crossed the room, grabbing the box of lights from the corner. “Where do you want them?”

“Up by the fireplace,” Olivia instructed, already moving to supervise. “And try not to break anything. My dad still hasn’t forgiven you for the Great Vase Incident of ’98.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “That was your fault, as I recall.”

“Details,” Olivia said breezily, waving him off.

You watched the two of them banter, a familiar pang tugging at your chest. They’d always been so comfortable with each other, their dynamic effortless and easy. And while Olivia never made you feel like an outsider, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place when Peter was around.

“Y/N,” Peter said, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was holding up a strand of lights, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Care to lend a hand? Or are you too busy with your eggnog?”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming. “I—uh—sure.”

“Great,” he said, motioning for you to join him by the fireplace. “I’ll hold these up, and you can tell me if they’re straight.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being set up?” you asked, setting your glass down and walking over.

Peter grinned. “Because you are.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face.

---

As the three of you worked, the doorbell rang, and Olivia hurried to answer it. Joshua stepped inside, his polished appearance contrasting with the slightly chaotic energy of the room. “Y/N,” he said warmly, spotting you immediately. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You made it just in time.”

“Perfect timing, as always,” Joshua replied, stepping closer. He glanced at Peter, who was adjusting the lights. “Peter.”

“Joshua,” Peter said evenly, not looking away from his task. His tone was polite, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t ignore.

Joshua slid an arm lightly around your waist, and you tensed, feeling Peter’s gaze flick toward you. “This place looks great,” Joshua said, addressing Olivia as she returned. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said, her eyes darting between him and Peter. “It’s a team effort, though. Y/N’s been helping.”

“She always has good taste,” Joshua said, giving you a small squeeze.

Peter straightened, stepping down from the stool and dusting off his hands. “Well, the lights are up. Anything else, Liv?”

“Not for now,” Olivia said, her tone tight as she glanced at you. “Why don’t we all grab a drink and relax before the guests arrive?”

“Excellent idea,” Joshua said, steering you toward the kitchen. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him, feeling Peter’s eyes on you the entire way.

---

The party was in full swing now, the hum of conversation and soft clinking of glasses filling Olivia’s house. You and Joshua had been mingling for a while, though he seemed perfectly at ease, charming the small groups you joined. You, on the other hand, felt slightly out of place, your smile starting to feel a little forced as the evening dragged on.

“Having a good time?” Joshua asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the noise.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “It’s nice.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Nice? That’s all?”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Y/N,” Peter said, stepping up beside you. His tone was polite, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. “Could I borrow you for a moment?”

Joshua’s brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained composed. “Is it urgent?”

Peter smiled faintly. “I won’t keep her long.”

You hesitated, glancing at Joshua, who gave a small nod. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” you said softly before turning to Peter. “Alright.”

Peter led you out of the crowded room and down the hall to a quieter corner near the library. The muffled sounds of the party faded as he closed the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

“Everything’s fine,” Peter said, his tone gentler now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, tied with a neat bow. “I just wanted to give you this.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took the box from his hand. “What is it?”

“Open it and see,” he said, leaning casually against the wall, though his gaze never left your face.

You carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid. Inside was a delicate necklace with a simple arrow pendant, the silver catching the soft light of the room.

“Peter,” you breathed, your fingers brushing over the pendant. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low. “It reminded me of you.”

“Of me?” you asked, looking up at him.

He smiled, a small, genuine curve of his lips. “Of the time Olivia convinced you to take archery lessons with her. You were better than all of us, even though you swore you’d be terrible.”

You laughed softly, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t,” he said simply, his eyes warm.

You hesitated, your thumb grazing the pendant again. “Thank you. It’s… really thoughtful.”

“Turn around,” he said gently, holding out his hand for the box. You passed it to him, feeling your heart race as you turned.

Peter stepped closer, his presence warm behind you. You held your breath as his fingers brushed your neck, clasping the necklace with a practiced ease. He lingered for a moment, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders before stepping back.

You turned to face him, your hand instinctively reaching for the pendant. “It’s perfect,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Peter’s expression softened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “It suits you.”

You hesitated, your voice wavering as you asked, “Where’s Jade?”

He didn’t flinch, but his smile faded slightly. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” you repeated, your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Peter shrugged, his tone calm but final. “She left. That’s all there is to it.”

The way he said it left no room for further questions, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to press him anyway. Instead, you nodded slowly, your fingers still lightly gripping the pendant.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled again, a faint curve of his lips as he stepped closer. “You’re welcome, Y/N. Always.”

Before you could respond, the faint sound of someone calling your name reached the hallway. Peter glanced toward the door, his smile tightening.

“You should get back,” he said, his tone polite but distant.

“Right,” you said quickly, stepping toward the door. “Thanks again.”

Peter didn’t follow, leaning against the wall as you left. His eyes lingered on the empty doorway for a moment before he let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable.

---

Back in the main room, Joshua found you almost immediately. “There you are,” he said, his voice warm. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering a small smile. “Peter just… wanted to talk.”

Joshua studied you for a moment, his gaze flicking briefly to the necklace around your neck. “It’s nice,” he said evenly.

“Thanks,” you replied, your hand instinctively touching the pendant. “It was a gift.”

Joshua’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, looping your arm through his and letting him guide you back into the crowd. But as the night went on, you couldn’t shake the weight of the pendant resting against your collarbone—or the memory of Peter’s words.

---

Joshua walked you to your apartment door, his demeanor as composed as ever, though there was a subtle tension in his posture. He stood just inside the threshold, his hands in his coat pockets, glancing around the small entryway.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly, breaking the silence as you set your purse on the side table.

He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “About what?”

Joshua took a slow breath, stepping closer. “About us.” He paused, his gaze steady. “Y/N, I know we’ve never… officially defined what we are, but I care about you. I need you to know that.”

Your chest tightened, and you glanced down, unable to meet his eyes. “I care about you too, Joshua.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I believe that. But I also think… you’re conflicted. And you have been for a while.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, his tone gentle. “I’m not angry, Y/N. And I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I just think it’s time to acknowledge what’s been hanging between us.”

You bit your lip, your fingers curling against the edge of the table. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been honest with me, and I appreciate that. But I can see it, Y/N. You’re trying to force yourself to feel something you’re not sure about.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. “You’re a wonderful person, Joshua. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled softly, the sadness in his eyes making your chest ache. “I know you don’t. And that’s why I’m telling you this now—so you have time to figure out what you really want.”

You frowned, your voice barely audible. “What do you mean?”

Joshua straightened slightly, his tone calm but resolute. “I’m leaving for a business trip tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a week. While I’m away, I want you to think about this—about us. And about him.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him sharply. “Him?”

Joshua’s expression remained steady. “You don’t have to say it, Y/N. I know Peter’s a part of this, whether you realize it or not. I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. It’s not something you can ignore.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, but you couldn’t find the words to respond.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” Joshua continued gently. “I just… I need you to be honest with yourself. And with me.”

“Joshua…” you started, your voice breaking.

He gave you a reassuring smile, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. “It’s okay, Y/N. Whatever happens, I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.”

Tears blurred your vision as you nodded, your voice trembling. “Thank you.”

He stepped back, his hand falling to his side. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll call you when I get back.”

You managed a small nod, watching as he turned and walked down the hall. The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the silence.

Your gaze dropped to the pendant around your neck, your fingers brushing against it lightly. The weight of his words settled over you, leaving you torn between guilt and relief. And as much as you tried to push it away, one thought lingered in the back of your mind:

You needed to figure out what you wanted. And it wasn’t just about Joshua. It was about Peter, too.

---

A few days later, you and Olivia stumbled into her apartment after a night at the club, a place you notoriously hate because of the crowds and loud noise. But you thought it couldn’t hurt to get out of your head a little bit, especially with what Joshua said before he left on his business trip.

Olivia reached for the coat hook by her front door, trying to place her coat on the rack as it fell to the ground. “Ah, fuck it. ‘M not gonna pick that up.”

You giggled, stumbling toward the couch. “You’re such a mess, Liv.”

“I’m a masterpiece, actually,” Olivia countered, pointing a finger in your direction before tripping slightly on the edge of the rug. “Oops. See? Flawless recovery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch and kicking off your heels. Your feet ached, and your head was already buzzing from the drinks, but for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like crying.

Olivia flopped down next to you, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. “I’m not ridiculous. I’m living my best life. You’re the one who never lets loose.”

“Excuse me?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Who just spent the entire night dancing, even though they hate crowds?”

“That’s fair,” she admitted, waving the pillow at you. “I’m proud of you for actually showing up. I thought I’d have to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

“You practically did,” you pointed out, leaning your head back against the couch. “But it wasn’t… the worst thing ever.”

Olivia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Did Y/N just admit she had fun? Someone call the press!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t push it.”

She smirked, tossing the pillow aside and grabbing the remote. “So, what’s the plan? Sleep? Food? Another drink?”

“I can’t even think about drinking right now,” you said, groaning. “I need water and something greasy, or I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

“Got it,” Olivia said, standing unsteadily and heading toward the kitchen. “I think I’ve got leftover pizza in the fridge. Want me to heat it up, or are we going full savage mode?”

“Savage mode,” you said, laughing. “I’m too tired to wait.”

Olivia returned with a box of cold pizza and two bottles of water, dropping onto the couch with a triumphant grin. “Bon appétit.”

You grabbed a slice, taking a bite and sighing contentedly. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“See? Clubbing isn’t so bad,” Olivia said, grabbing a slice for herself. “You just need the right ending.”

“Clubbing is still bad,” you replied between bites. “But this? This is good.”

She laughed, nudging your shoulder. “I’ll take it. Baby steps, Y/N.”

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the TV filling the room as you worked through the pizza.

Eventually, Olivia broke the quiet. “So… how’re you feeling about everything? With Joshua, I mean.”

You paused, your fingers playing with the edge of the pizza box. “I don’t know. He’s been amazing. Thoughtful, sweet, everything you’d want, right?”

“But?” Olivia prompted, tilting her head.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “But I keep second-guessing everything. Like, is it fair to him if I’m not… all in? Am I being honest with myself? I just feel so—”

“Conflicted?” Olivia finished gently.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached over, squeezing your hand. “Hey, it’s okay to feel that way. You’re not a robot. And you’re not a villain for trying to figure out what you want.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just don’t want to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“No one does,” Olivia said softly. “But being with someone when you’re not sure? That’s not fair to either of you.”

You stayed quiet, her words sinking in.

“And let’s be real,” she added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve been hung up on Peter since forever. That’s not going to just disappear because someone else comes along.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Olivia said, nudging your knee with hers. “If you don’t deal with that, it’s always going to be there. No matter how great Joshua is.”

You peeked at her through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Why are you always right?”

“It’s a curse,” she said dramatically, throwing her arm over her eyes. “But seriously, Y/N. Take your time. Figure it out. And whatever you decide, I’ll be here to back you up.”

You smiled weakly, lowering your hands. “Thanks, Liv.”

“Anytime,” she said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Now, shut up and eat. We’re not leaving any leftovers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached for another slice. For the first time in weeks, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d find your way through this mess.

---

“Hey, Joshua. I know you said you were gonna call when you got back, but… if I’m being honest I’m really drunk right now since Olivia dragged me out to a club. But in hindsight, I still feel a bit more confident than usual so I thought I might… say what I needed to say, ‘cause I’d probably chicken out when I see you.”

“You were right. My feelings are complicated toward Peter, but I do really like you. But you were right… I need to be honest with myself. I like Peter—hell, I think I’ve loved him since we were, uh… little people? Point is, I really like you, and I never wanted to hurt you. Call me back when you’re free?”

There was a soft beep as the voicemail ended and then… silence.

The line went dead.

---

Two weeks later you were jittery and nervous. Joshua said he would be back in a week and had never returned, let alone call you back.

Olivia placed her tray on the table across from you, your work calendar underneath it, and flopped into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, spill. Why do you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”

You pushed the lettuce around on your sandwich, your appetite completely gone. “I haven’t heard from Joshua.”

Olivia blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What do you mean? He hasn’t called you since he left?”

You shook your head, setting the sandwich down. “Nothing. No calls, no texts. It’s like he disappeared.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “That’s weird, even for him. Did you try calling him again?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I left a voicemail. After we went out that night.”

“Oh, God.” Olivia’s eyes widened slightly. “You didn’t confess on a drunk voicemail, did you?”

You winced, nodding. “I did.”

Olivia groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because I feel like an idiot,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was honest with him, but now I’m worried I said too much. Or scared him off.”

Olivia sat up, her expression softening. “Hey, you were just being real with him. If he can’t handle that, then maybe it’s better you know now.”

“I just…” You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “I didn’t want things to end like this. He deserves better than that.”

“And so do you,” Olivia pointed out. She reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Look, maybe he’s just busy. You said he’s on a work trip, right? He could still call when he gets back.”

“It’s been two weeks,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I think that’s long enough for a call.”

Olivia hesitated, clearly unsure of what to say. “Alright, then maybe it’s time to move on. You’ve done what you can, Y/N. If he’s not responding, you can’t put your life on hold for him.”

“I know,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “It just… sucks.”

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed, leaning back in her chair. “It does. But hey, at least you’ve got me to keep you sane.”

You managed a weak smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She grinned, grabbing a fry from her tray. “Probably starve. Speaking of which, eat your sandwich. You’re no good to anyone if you’re hangry.”

You rolled your eyes but picked up the sandwich again, taking a small bite. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

---

Later that day after taking a relaxing bath, you walked into the kitchen to debate whether you wanted to cook something or order takeout. You didn’t get far before Olivia called you. You flipped open your phone. “Hey. I was just deciding what I wanted for dinner. Does Thai or Indian sound bett—”

“Have you checked the news?”

The phone nearly slipped from your fingers. “What? No, I haven’t. Why?”

Olivia’s voice was tense, clipped with urgency. “Turn on the TV. It’s on every channel.”

Your chest tightened as you moved quickly to the living room. You fumbled with the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar news anchor appeared on the screen. The banner running across the bottom made your stomach drop.

MISSING: LORD BECKETT’S SON, JOSHUA BECKETT

The screen displayed an image of Joshua smiling at some event, dressed in one of his tailored suits, looking perfectly at ease. The anchor’s voice filled the room:

“…last seen departing for a business trip nearly two weeks ago. Despite extensive efforts to contact him, friends and family have received no communication. Authorities are investigating his disappearance. More details are expected to follow—”

You muted the TV, your hand trembling as you pressed the button.

“Y/N?” Olivia’s voice came through the phone, softer now. “Are you seeing this?”

You sank onto the couch, your heart racing. “I… Yeah. I’m seeing it.”

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “He didn’t say anything before he left—just that he’d call when he got back. I thought… I thought he was just busy.”

“Two weeks is more than busy,” Olivia said flatly. “This is serious.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “Do you think something happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia admitted. “But if he hasn’t been in touch with anyone, it’s not a good sign.”

Your chest tightened, a sick feeling settling in your stomach. “This doesn’t make any sense. He was fine before he left. He didn’t seem… worried about anything.”

“Do you think he—” Olivia hesitated, lowering her voice. “Do you think he left on purpose? Like, to get space or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head even though she couldn’t see you. “Joshua wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t just… disappear without telling anyone.”

“Alright,” Olivia said, though she still sounded uncertain. “Then we have to assume something’s happened. Have the police contacted you?”

“No,” you said, glancing at your phone. “Why would they?”

“You were dating him,” Olivia pointed out. “If they’re investigating, they might reach out to people close to him.”

Your stomach churned. “I don’t know anything, Liv. If they ask me, what am I supposed to say?”

“Just tell them the truth,” Olivia said gently. “That’s all you can do.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes flicking back to the muted TV. The image of Joshua remained on the screen, a stark reminder of how little you understood what was happening.

---

The knock on your apartment door startled you. You froze on the couch, your mind spinning with thoughts of Joshua, the news reports, and the uneasy ache that had settled in your chest over the past few days. Slowly, you got up, wiping your hands on your sweatpants as you approached the door.

You peeked through the peephole, your breath catching when you saw Peter. His expression was calm but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, just loud enough to carry through the door. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door and opening it. “Peter,” you said quietly, stepping aside to let him in.

He offered a faint smile, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge your mood. “Hey. I heard about the news… I wanted to check on you.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind him. “Thanks. I’m… I don’t even know what I am, honestly.”

Peter’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Come sit down. You shouldn’t be standing here like this.”

You let him guide you back to the couch, sinking into the cushions as he sat beside you. The air felt heavy, the unspoken weight of everything pressing down on both of you.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He just… vanished. And no one knows anything. It doesn’t make sense.”

Peter nodded, his expression steady but unreadable. “It’s unsettling. And it’s not something anyone should have to go through.”

You looked down at your hands, twisting your fingers together nervously. “I keep going over every conversation we had before he left. Wondering if I missed something—if he was trying to tell me something, and I didn’t pick up on it.”

“Y/N,” Peter said gently, his hand resting on your knee. “Don’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t have known. This isn’t your fault.”

“But what if—” you started, but he shook his head.

“There are no ‘what ifs,’” he said firmly, his hand warm and steady against your leg. “You cared about him. You were there for him. That’s what matters.”

You blinked back the sting of tears, nodding weakly. “It just… it doesn’t feel real. He was here, and now he’s not. It’s like the ground’s been pulled out from under me.”

Peter’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you gently against him. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You let yourself lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing was oddly soothing, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. His other hand came up, brushing lightly over your hair as he held you close.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He didn’t deserve this.”

“No, he didn’t,” Peter agreed, his voice low. “But you don’t deserve to carry this on your own, either.”

You closed your eyes, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the weight on your chest eased, replaced by a strange sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly, though you didn’t move away. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said firmly. “Not until you’re okay.”

You didn’t respond, too lost in the haze of your emotions to argue. Instead, you stayed where you were, letting the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms lull you into a fragile sense of calm.

---

When you and Olivia walked into your apartment after going out to dinner together, the first thing you noticed was the large vase of hydrangeas on your coffee table, along with a small box of expensive caramels.

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up as she shrugged off her coat. “Well, well, what’s this? Did you pick up a secret admirer while I wasn’t looking?”

You blinked, setting your bag down and approaching the table. A small card sat propped against the vase. “I… have no idea,” you murmured, picking up the card.

Olivia leaned over your shoulder, her curiosity on full display. “Read it! What does it say?”

You opened the card, your fingers brushing over the neat handwriting. “To brighten your day. -Peter.”

Olivia let out a low whistle. “Peter, huh? He’s pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you set the card back down. “He’s just… being thoughtful.”

Olivia flopped onto the couch, crossing her legs. “Thoughtful, sure. But come on, Y/N, hydrangeas and fancy caramels? That’s not just thoughtful—that’s calculated. The man knows what he’s doing.”

You sighed, sitting down beside her and fiddling with the edge of the coffee table. “He’s been really sweet lately. Ever since… you know.”

“Since Joshua?” Olivia supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, biting your lip. “I don’t know how to feel about it. I mean, Peter’s been there for me through everything, but I can’t shake this feeling like he’s… I don’t know. Trying to prove something.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying you. “Maybe he is. But is that a bad thing? You’ve had a thing for him forever, and now he’s finally making an effort. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t want him to feel like he has to… compete or something. Especially after what happened with Joshua.”

Olivia snorted, grabbing one of the caramels and unwrapping it. “Y/N, Peter’s not the kind of guy who does anything he doesn’t want to do. If he’s stepping up now, it’s because he wants to. Not because he feels obligated.”

You frowned, her words sinking in. “But what if it’s too late? What if everything with Joshua just… ruined it?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, popping the caramel into her mouth. “Ruined what? You and Peter were always circling each other, even when you were with Joshua. This isn’t about timing—it’s about you deciding what you actually want.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers brushing over the edge of the card again. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

Olivia nudged your shoulder, her voice softer now. “Then maybe it’s time to figure it out. Peter’s not going anywhere, Y/N. But you owe it to yourself to stop holding back.”

You glanced at her, her words settling in your chest like a weight. “Do you think he really…?”

“Likes you?” Olivia finished, smirking. “Y/N, that man’s been pining after you for years. He’s just too proud—or too stubborn—to admit it outright.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly looked away. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Olivia said, grinning. “He sent you hydrangeas, Y/N. Your favorite kind of flower that you probably mentioned one time to him when you were younger, and he remembered.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your cheeks flushed. “He’s just being nice.”

“Nice?” Olivia scoffed, popping another caramel into her mouth. “Y/N, this isn’t nice. This is strategic. He’s playing the long game, and you’re falling for it.”

“I’m not falling for anything,” you muttered, fidgeting with the card in your hand.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. He’s practically wrapped around your finger, and you’re still pretending like he’s not into you. Wake up, Y/N.”

You sighed, setting the card back on the table. “It’s complicated, Liv.”

“Only because you’re making it complicated,” she shot back. “You’ve been into him since we were kids. He’s finally giving you his full attention, and you’re sitting here overthinking it.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing over the edge of the vase. “It’s just… everything with Joshua. It feels wrong to move on so fast.”

“Joshua wouldn’t want you to sit around moping,” Olivia said firmly. “And let’s be real, you weren’t head-over-heels for him. You liked him, sure, but not like this.”

You looked at her, surprised. “Not like what?”

“Not like the way you look at Peter,” Olivia said simply, crossing her arms. “Or the way you get all flustered when he so much as breathes near you.”

“I do not,” you protested weakly, but Olivia just smirked.

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that,” she said, standing and stretching. “Anyway, I’m thirsty. Wine, good?”

You managed a weak laugh, grateful for her ability to lighten the mood. “Wine’s good.”

“And while we wait, you can tell me how you’re going to handle Peter. Because ignoring him isn’t an option anymore.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know, Liv. I really don’t.”

“Well, figure it out,” she said, closing your cupboard’s door. “Because knowing Peter, he’s not going to let you avoid him for long.”

---

A knock on your apartment door the next evening made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t expecting anyone, and Olivia had her own plans tonight. Setting down the tea you’d been sipping, you walked cautiously to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Peter stood on the other side, dressed casually in a gray sweater and dark jeans, holding a small bag in one hand. He caught sight of the peephole and gave a faint smile, as if sensing you were there.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough to carry through the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob before finally unlocking it and opening the door. “Peter. What are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a sheepish grin. “I brought takeout. Thought you might be hungry.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You brought me dinner?”

He shrugged, stepping inside as you moved aside to let him in. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but I figured it’s better than you eating instant noodles.”

“Bold of you to assume I had instant noodles planned,” you said, closing the door.

Peter smirked, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “It’s a hunch.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter as he unpacked the food. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, glancing at you. “I know things have been… a lot lately. I thought a quiet dinner might help.”

Your chest tightened, and you looked away, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “You’ve been doing a lot for me lately.”

Peter’s expression softened. “I care about you, Y/N. I’m just trying to be here for you.”

You glanced up at him, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Thank you. Really.”

He smiled faintly, pushing one of the takeout containers toward you. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

---

Dinner with Peter was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you talked about everything and nothing. He had a way of making you laugh, his wit sharp but never cutting. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt lighter.

As the evening wore on, Peter leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. “You seem more like yourself tonight.”

You smiled softly, swirling your drink in its glass. “I think I’m starting to feel… okay again. It’s still weird not hearing from Joshua, but I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be.”

Peter nodded, his expression unreadable. “That’s good. You deserve to feel at peace.”

You hesitated, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Do you think he’s okay? Wherever he is?”

Peter’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his tone was calm when he replied. “I think he’d want you to be happy, no matter what.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, your gaze lingering on his face. “You really think that?”

“I do,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get there.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. You swallowed hard, looking down at your drink. “You’ve already done so much, Peter. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. Just let me be here for you. That’s all I want.”

You glanced up, your breath catching at the intensity in his gaze. The warmth of his presence, the sincerity in his words—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Peter’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Anytime.”

---

“How was your date last night?” you asked as the nail tech painted a soft coral onto your nails.

Olivia grinned, glancing at you over her magazine. “It was… interesting. He showed up in a leather jacket, which I thought was bold for a guy who works in finance, but then he ordered a piña colada at dinner.”

You laughed softly. “That’s a choice.”

“Right?” Olivia said, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m all for a guy who knows what he likes, but it just didn’t vibe with the whole Wall Street aesthetic he was going for.”

“Did you tell him that?”

She smirked. “Of course not. I’m not a monster. But the date kind of fizzled after that. Turns out, he’s one of those people who think working for a magazine is ‘cute.’”

You winced. “Ouch.”

“Exactly,” Olivia said, leaning back in her chair. “So, no second date for Mr. Leather-and-piña-colada.”

“You’re ruthless,” you teased, shaking your head.

“I have standards,” she replied, flipping the page of her magazine. “How’s work been? Any new scandals in the accounting world?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been fine. Mostly just year-end audits and tax prep.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Olivia said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, it pays the bills,” you replied with a shrug. “And it’s not all spreadsheets. Sometimes there’s… client drama.”

“Oh, client drama,” Olivia said, perking up. “Now we’re talking. Spill.”

You hesitated, glancing at the nail tech, who was focused on your hand. Lowering your voice slightly, you said, “we had this one client who tried to write off their yacht as a business expense. They even had fake invoices to back it up.”

Olivia gasped, clearly delighted. “No! Did they get away with it?��

“Not a chance,” you said, smirking. “My boss caught it immediately. The guy was not happy when we told him he couldn’t claim it.”

“Let me guess,” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes. “He tried to threaten you with his ‘connections.’”

“Something like that,” you replied, laughing. “But we stood our ground. It was kind of satisfying watching him squirm.”

“You’re secretly a savage,” Olivia said, grinning. “I love it.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not really. I just don’t like people thinking they can get away with stuff like that.”

“Well, remind me never to try and cheat my taxes,” Olivia said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Smart choice,” you replied, your tone teasing.

The nail tech finished your last finger, carefully blowing on the polish to help it dry. Olivia glanced at your hands and nodded approvingly. “That color’s perfect on you.”

“Thanks,” you said, admiring the soft, summery shade. “Ready to head out?”

“Absolutely,” Olivia said, standing and grabbing her purse. “But first, we’re getting coffee. I need something to recover from the mental image of a guy sipping a piña colada in a suit.”

You laughed, following her to the counter to settle the bill. “You really know how to pick them, Liv.”

“I live to entertain,” she said with a wink.

---

“Hey there, Dotty.”

You let out a slight gasp as you turned around to come face to face with Olivia’s twin brother, Oscar. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, how do ya think Ollie got the tickets? I’ve got connections you know.”

Olivia walked over holding her clutch and a glass of wine. “Oscar,” she hissed.

He turned to look at her, “what? I’m just speakin’ the truth.”

“Five years in America and you’ve turned into more of a pretentious arsehole.” Olivia muttered.

“I heard that. And I resent it.” Oscar replied, reaching over to ruffle her hair, which she dodged.

Peter walked over, placing a hand on your waist and gently moving you aside as Olivia and Oscar continued their bickering. His touch was warm, firm, and effortlessly reassuring, making your breath hitch for a split second.

“Let’s not get caught in the crossfire,” Peter murmured close to your ear, his tone laced with amusement.

“Good idea,” you replied softly, letting him guide you a few steps away. Your heart gave an annoyingly noticeable thump as his hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he let it drop.

The theatre lobby was bustling, everyone dressed to the nines for the evening performance of The Phantom of the Opera. Olivia’s enthusiasm for the musical had been borderline infectious, but Peter’s presence was what had truly made you agree to come tonight. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were looking forward to sitting next to him in the darkened theatre.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Peter said, studying your face. His gaze was steady, calm, yet probing in a way that always made you feel like he saw more than you were ready to show.

“Just taking everything in,” you said, gesturing to the opulent decor around you. “This place is beautiful.”

Peter smiled, his expression softening. “It is. But I meant you. Something on your mind?”

You hesitated, glancing toward Olivia and Oscar, who had moved on to teasing each other about their wine preferences. “I guess I’m just… nervous. I haven’t been to something like this in a long time.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Peter assured you. His voice dipped slightly, and you swore his eyes darkened just a fraction. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down at the neckline of your dress. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I try.”

Before the conversation could deepen, Olivia swooped in, dragging Oscar behind her. “Alright, let’s get to our seats before the ushers start giving us dirty looks.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but followed, grinning as Olivia nudged him toward the row. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“You love it,” Olivia shot back, sliding into her seat.

Peter motioned for you to go ahead of him, and as you slid past him to take your seat, his hand brushed lightly against your back again. The touch was fleeting but intentional, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to focus on the grandeur of the theatre as the lights dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd fading into anticipation. But Peter, seated just to your right, made it impossible to ignore the steady hum of awareness that had been building between you.

---

The performance was breathtaking. You’d been completely captivated by the haunting music and the tension between the Phantom and Christine, though the parallels to your own tangled emotions didn’t escape you. Peter, seated so close, made every small movement—every shift, every glance—feel magnified.

As the final notes of Music of the Night faded into the silence of the audience, you turned slightly toward him, your expression unguarded. “That was… incredible.”

Peter was already watching you, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. “It’s one of my favorites,” he said softly. “I knew you’d like it.”

“You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always been drawn to stories like this. Beautiful, bittersweet, with just a hint of danger.”

Your breath hitched, his words hitting closer to home than he probably realized. Or maybe he did realize—it was Peter, after all.

Before you could respond, Olivia leaned across Oscar from her seat on the other side. “Is it just me, or does this whole ‘Phantom versus Raoul’ thing feel unnecessarily stressful?”

Oscar smirked. “It’s just you. You’re always Team Raoul.”

“And you’re always wrong,” Olivia retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

Peter chuckled, leaning back slightly but not breaking his gaze from yours. “I’d say the drama is what makes it worthwhile.”

“Exactly,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “What’s the point without a little tension?”

Peter’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

---

After the show, the four of you stepped into the cool night air, the buzz of the performance still lingering in the air. Olivia and Oscar were ahead, debating the musical’s ending, leaving you and Peter a few steps behind.

“You’re quiet again,” Peter noted, glancing at you. “Second thoughts about the story?”

You shook your head, pulling your coat tighter around you. “No, it was perfect. Just… a lot to process.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It has a way of sticking with you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to him. “Which side were you on? The Phantom or Raoul?”

Peter tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “The Phantom, of course.”

“Of course?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded, his tone teasing but layered with something deeper. “The Phantom’s not perfect, but he’s passionate. Compelling. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take risks to get it.”

“And Raoul?” you pressed, though your voice was softer now.

Peter shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “Raoul’s safe. Predictable. But sometimes, safe isn’t what we need.”

Your breath caught, his words hanging in the space between you like a challenge. You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia’s voice called back to you, breaking the moment.

“Y/N, come on! Oscar wants to hit a diner before heading back.”

You turned toward her, grateful for the distraction. “Coming!”

Peter’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, stopping you for just a moment longer. “Think about it, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “What’s worth the risk?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he didn’t wait for an answer. With a faint smile, he followed Olivia and Oscar down the street, leaving you to catch up and wonder if the Phantom’s shadow was closer than you’d realized.

---

Peter’s father was having another party, celebrating something in the aristocratic circle you were sure you wouldn’t understand.

The Lyman estate was as grand as ever, with its sprawling grounds and towering facade lit up against the evening sky. You adjusted the strap of your dress, feeling slightly out of place despite the polished look Olivia had helped you put together.

“It’s just a party,” Olivia had said as she zipped up your dress. “The same champagne, the same tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the same people trying to one-up each other with stories about their vacations. You’ll survive.”

Easy for her to say—this was her family. For you, it felt like stepping into a world you’d never quite belong to, even if you’d been tagging along to events like this since you were kids.

“Y/N,” Peter’s familiar voice drew your attention as you lingered near the garden entrance, trying to avoid the bustle of the main hall. He approached, his navy suit tailored to perfection and his tie slightly loosened, as if to project effortless ease.

“You’re hiding,” he teased, stopping a few paces away.

“Not hiding,” you countered softly, fiddling with your clutch. “Just… taking a moment.”

Peter smiled faintly, his gaze flicking over you. “You look stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced away. “Thanks. Olivia helped.”

“She has good taste,” Peter said, stepping closer. “Though, I’m sure you’d look stunning regardless.”

The compliment hung in the air, and you struggled to find a response. Before you could, Peter gestured toward the garden path. “Walk with me?”

You hesitated but nodded, falling into step beside him. The air outside was cooler, the faint hum of the party muffled by the hedges and tall trees.

“You’ve been avoiding the main hall,” Peter said after a moment, his tone casual.

You shrugged. “It’s… a lot. These parties always feel a little overwhelming.”

“I get that,” he replied, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It’s all so… polished. A show, really.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of disdain in his tone. “You don’t like them?”

Peter chuckled softly. “I tolerate them. But if I had a choice? I’d skip the champagne and small talk for something a bit more… real.”

“Real?” you echoed, curious.

He tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours. “Something like this. A quiet walk. No pretense, no expectations.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “That does sound nice.”

Peter’s smile softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken. But before either of you could say more, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifted toward you, pulling you back to reality.

“Shall we head back?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” Peter said, his tone light but firm. “You’ve spent enough time worrying about everyone else tonight. Let me distract you a bit longer.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against the pendant around your neck—a small habit you’d picked up since he gave it to you. Finally, you nodded. “Alright. Distract me.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Gladly.”

You followed him down the garden path, the faint glow of lanterns lining the way. The chill in the air nipped at your skin, and you hugged your arms to yourself, regretting not bringing a shawl. Peter noticed almost instantly.

“You’re cold,” he said, his tone leaving no room for denial.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your shiver betrayed you.

Peter stopped walking, shrugging off his blazer in one fluid motion. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment as he adjusted it. The warmth of the fabric and the faint scent of his cologne made your heart skip a beat.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, starting down the path again. “I can’t have you freezing out here. It’d ruin my distraction plan.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Your plan’s working, by the way. I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else tonight.”

“Good,” Peter said, his gaze flicking to you briefly. “That’s the goal.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot the only thing breaking the stillness. The garden was peaceful, the faint hum of the party fading into the background. It felt like you were in your own little world, away from the chaos and expectations.

“You’ve always been good at this,” you said suddenly, glancing at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re the only one in the room,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “It’s… a talent.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I think you give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the path. “You’re good at making people feel seen. Heard.”

Peter stopped walking, turning to face you. “What about you, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet but pointed. “Do you feel seen?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, his expression open but intense. “Sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s you.”

The faintest smile touched his lips, and he took a small step closer. “Good.”

The air between you felt charged, the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks finally coming to a head. Peter’s eyes searched yours, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. He leaned in slightly, as if testing the waters, and your heart raced.

But before either of you could close the gap, a distant voice called out. “Peter? Are you out here?”

The spell broke, and you stepped back, your cheeks burning. Peter exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the direction of the voice.

“We should get back,” you said quickly, your voice unsteady. “They’ll be looking for us.”

Peter turned back to you, his eyes unreadable. “Y/N—”

You shook your head, stepping past him. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

You barely made it a few steps before his hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait,” he said, his tone low but insistent.

You turned back, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. Before you could say anything, his hand moved to your cheek, and he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was steady, purposeful, and everything you hadn’t let yourself imagine. His lips were warm against yours, his touch grounding, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hand still rested gently against your cheek. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers brushing the fabric of his jacket draped over your shoulders. “Peter…”

He searched your face, his expression open but cautious. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your mind racing. The kiss had sent a thrill through you, a warmth that settled in your chest, but there was also a lingering uncertainty. You had spent so long trying to untangle your feelings—toward him, toward Joshua, toward everything. But in this moment, none of it seemed to matter.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you said softly, the words tumbling out before you could overthink them.

Peter exhaled, relief flashing across his face before his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. This one was deeper, hungrier, like he’d been holding back for years and couldn’t any longer.

When you finally broke apart, your heart was racing, and you could barely catch your breath. Peter rested his forehead against yours, his voice low. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

You managed a small laugh, though your voice shook. “Probably not as long as I’ve waited for you.”

He tilted his head, his smile soft but teasing. “Is that so?”

You nodded, looking down at the ground. “Since we were kids. Maybe not this exact thing, but… yeah.”

Peter’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “I wish I’d known sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so much of an idiot.”

“You’re still an idiot,” you said, though there was no heat in your tone.

He laughed, a sound that made your chest tighten in the best way. “Fair enough. But I’m trying, Y/N. I need you to know that.”

You nodded, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. “I know. And I see it. I do.”

Peter looked at you like he wanted to say more, but the distant sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted the moment. He straightened slightly, his hand falling away from your cheek. “We should get back before they start sending a search party.”

“Right,” you said quickly, adjusting his jacket around your shoulders. “We don’t want to draw any more attention.”

He smirked, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitated, then slid your hand into the crook of his elbow. As you walked back toward the main house, his closeness felt like a shield against the noise and expectations waiting for you inside.

Neither of you spoke as you reentered the party, but Peter’s hand brushed against yours, a silent promise that left your heart fluttering.

---

You opened your apartment door to see Peter in his usual outfit. He looked you up and down, a slight frown on his face. “It’s cold outside, why don’t you have a jacket?”

You gave him a slight pout, “it’ll ruin my outfit.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the concern in his eyes didn’t waver. “Though that dress looks incredible on you,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, “I don’t want you to get sick again. Humor me?”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Fine. You’re impossible, you know that?”

Peter grinned, stepping back to lean casually against the doorframe. “I’ve been told. But I’m also right, aren’t I?”

You gave him a quick, light kiss, feeling his smile against your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you murmured, turning toward your bedroom. “I’ll grab a jacket.”

As you disappeared down the hall, Peter watched you with a faint smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. When you returned, shrugging into a light jacket that didn’t clash with your dress, he straightened, his expression smug.

“There,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Happy now?”

“Delighted,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the door. “Shall we?”

You locked up and stepped into the crisp evening air, Peter’s hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you toward the car.

“Where are we going, anyway?” you asked, glancing at him.

Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement. “It’s a surprise.”

You huffed playfully. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Which is exactly why I planned one,” he countered, his tone teasing but gentle.

The drive was filled with soft music and comfortable silence, Peter occasionally stealing glances at you. It had been like this for weeks now—easy, familiar, and strangely comforting. He’d become your rock in the chaos, grounding you without ever pushing too hard.

“Alright, we’re here,” Peter said, pulling into a quiet parking lot.

You looked out the window, your brow furrowing. “An art gallery?”

Peter stepped out of the car and came around to open your door, offering his hand as you stepped out. “Not just any art gallery,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, as if sharing a secret.

Inside, the gallery was quiet, the faint hum of soft lighting illuminating the pieces on display. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of other people scattered throughout the space, their voices hushed.

“You brought me to a gallery at night?” you asked, glancing at him as he led you toward a small alcove.

“You said you wanted to get out of your head,” Peter replied easily. “Art has a way of doing that. Besides, I thought you’d like this exhibit.”

He stopped in front of a painting, his hand still lightly on your arm as you took it in. It was abstract but vibrant, the colors swirling together in a way that felt both chaotic and intentional.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Peter didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on you rather than the painting. “It reminded me of you,” he said softly.

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat. “Why?”

“The way it draws you in,” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “It’s complex, layered… but there’s a warmth to it. Something you can’t look away from.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked back at the painting, your fingers brushing lightly over the pendant around your neck. “Peter…”

He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “I mean it, Y/N. You’re… something else entirely.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Just… let me be here. With you.”

You hesitated, the vulnerability in his eyes stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’re already here,” you said softly.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said, his hand brushing against yours. “Not unless you tell me to.”

You looked up at him, your voice barely audible. “I don’t want you to.”

Peter’s smile deepened, his hand slipping fully into yours as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

For the rest of the evening, you wandered the gallery together, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t think about the past or the uncertainty of the future. For now, it was just the two of you, lost in the quiet beauty of the moment.

---

“I feel bad leaving you at your apartment on Valentine’s, Liv. You sure you don’t want to come to the party with us?” You gave her your best puppy eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Olivia laughed, shaking her head as she finished tying her hair into a loose bun. “Y/N, you’ve got a date. You’re not ditching me. Besides, I’ve got plans.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Plans? You didn’t mention that earlier. What plans?”

She smirked, grabbing a glass of wine from the counter. “Plans to spend the night in my pajamas, eating chocolate, and watching Colin Firth movies. It’s a solid tradition.”

“That sounds better than a Valentine’s party,” you admitted with a small laugh.

Olivia grinned. “See? No need to feel guilty. I’m perfectly content.” She pointed at you with her glass. “You, on the other hand, need to stop hovering and finish getting ready. Peter’s going to be here soon.”

Your stomach fluttered at the mention of his name, and you glanced at the clock. “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Liv.”

“Always,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Now go knock his socks off.”

---

When Peter arrived, he was dressed impeccably, as usual, in a charcoal suit that fit him perfectly. He looked you up and down, his expression softening into a smile. “You look stunning,” he said, his voice warm.

“Thanks,” you said, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You clean up well too.”

“Ready to go?” he asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, slipping your hand through his. “Let’s do this.”

---

The Valentine’s party was in full swing by the time you arrived, the venue decorated with twinkling lights and an abundance of red and pink. Couples mingled, champagne flutes in hand, while a live band played soft jazz in the background.

Peter stayed close to you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you navigated the crowd. “Not too overwhelming, I hope?” he asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music.

“It’s nice,” you said, glancing around. “More elegant than I expected.”

He chuckled. “They like to go all out for these things.”

You sipped the champagne he’d handed you earlier, your nerves settling slightly. Peter had a way of making you feel at ease, even in the most crowded rooms.

---

At one point, Peter led you to the edge of the dance floor, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me?” he asked, his voice soft.

You hesitated, glancing at the couples swaying gracefully to the music. “You know I’m not very good… And there are so many people watching…”

Peter’s smile softened, and he tilted his head, his tone gentle but teasing. “They’re not watching you. Trust me, they’re too busy worrying about how they look.” He held out his hand, his eyes steady on yours. “Come on. I’ll make it easy for you.”

You bit your lip, still unsure, but the warmth in his gaze eased some of your nerves. “Fine. Just… don’t let me trip.”

Peter chuckled as you placed your hand in his. “I wouldn’t dare.” He led you to the edge of the dance floor, his movements fluid and confident. He turned to face you, slipping one hand around your waist while the other held yours. “See? Easy.”

You glanced around, your heart racing. “For you, maybe.”

Peter leaned closer, his voice low. “For us.” His confidence was contagious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. As he guided you in a gentle rhythm, you tried to focus on him instead of the crowd.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I’m barely moving,” you replied, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“And yet, you’re perfect,” Peter countered, his lips twitching into a small smirk. He stepped back slightly, spinning you gently in a twirl.

A surprised laugh escaped you as you spun, your dress flowing lightly around you. “Peter!”

He caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his arms. “What? I had to show you off a little.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he brought you closer.

The music slowed, and Peter’s steps matched the gentle tempo, keeping you steady even as your nerves started to fade. You glanced up at him, your voice quieter now. “This isn’t so bad.”

“Told you,” he said, his tone soft but smug. “You just needed the right partner.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You always have to get the last word, don’t you?”

Peter tilted his head, considering. “Not always. But I’ll make an exception for you.”

The song ended, and the crowd clapped politely, but Peter didn’t release you right away. His gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room disappeared.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his.

“For what?” he asked, his voice low.

“For making me forget how much I hate dancing,” you teased lightly, though the gratitude in your tone was real.

Peter smiled, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I’d say you’ve officially conquered it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but someone bumped lightly into Peter’s shoulder, pulling you both back to reality. He sighed, stepping aside to let the couple pass. “Looks like the dance floor’s getting crowded. Want to find somewhere quieter?”

You nodded, your chest still fluttering from the moment. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Peter led you away from the crowd, his hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you toward a quieter corner of the venue. As the hum of the party faded into the background, you glanced at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad I came tonight,” you said quietly.

Peter looked at you, his expression warm. “So am I.”

---

The chicken and potatoes were placed in the oven. You took off your oven mitt and walked into the living room, where Peter sat on your couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he fiddled with your radio. The TV played on mute, casting a soft glow across the room.

“How’s it going?” you asked, leaning against the doorway with a small smile.

Peter glanced up, a screwdriver in one hand and a look of concentration on his face. “Almost there. I think one of the wires was loose.”

You crossed the room, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “You didn’t have to fix it, you know. I could’ve just bought a new one.”

Peter smirked, glancing at you before returning his attention to the radio. “And let you replace a perfectly good radio just because of a loose wire? Absolutely not. Besides, I like a challenge.”

“Is that what this is? A challenge?” you teased, nudging his arm lightly.

“With this ancient thing? Definitely,” Peter said, chuckling. “But I’m winning.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing the cozy quiet between you. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning as he twisted the screwdriver one last time. “Alright, moment of truth. Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter flicked the switch, and a burst of static filled the room before it smoothed into the soft strains of a classical piano piece. He leaned back, a triumphant look on his face. “There we go.”

You clapped your hands lightly, impressed despite yourself. “Okay, I’m officially convinced. You’re a genius.”

Peter grinned, setting the screwdriver aside. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

“Too late,” you teased, sliding off the armrest and sitting next to him. The warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours made your stomach flip, though you tried not to show it.

Peter’s gaze flicked to you, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“I wonder why,” you said lightly, gesturing toward the now-working radio. “I mean, how could I not be? I’ve got dinner in the oven and free tech support on my couch.”

Peter chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ll take the credit for at least half of that.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Seriously, though. Thanks for fixing it. I know it’s just a radio, but it means a lot.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I like doing things for you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you glanced down at your hands. “You’re just… really good at being here, you know? I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

Peter reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “You don’t have to say it. I can see it.”

You looked up at him, his steady gaze making your heart race. “Still… it’s nice to hear sometimes.”

He smiled, his hand lingering on yours. “Then I’ll say it, too. I like being here. With you.”

The room fell quiet, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you. Finally, Peter stood up, his hand holding yours. “What would you say to a dance?”

You let out a muffled chuckle, “what’s up with you and dancing?”

Peter smirked, tugging lightly at your hand until you stood. “It’s not about the dancing. It’s about the company.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you close. His hands rested lightly on your waist, and yours instinctively found their way to his shoulders. “I don’t think this qualifies as dancing,” you teased.

Peter grinned, swaying gently with you to the soft piano music coming from the radio. “It’s our version of dancing. Much better than all that formal nonsense.”

You relaxed into his hold, letting your body move with his. “I think you just like an excuse to pull me into your orbit.”

“Caught me,” he said lightly, though the warmth in his gaze gave his words a deeper meaning.

The two of you swayed in comfortable silence, your head eventually resting against his chest. His hand shifted, brushing lightly against your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You tilted your face up to look at him, and the look in his eyes made your heart skip.

Without a word, Peter leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and deliberate against yours. The music faded into the background, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss as he guided you in a slow turn.

Unbeknownst to you, the muted TV caught his attention as the breaking news banner flashed across the screen. The headline read: "Body of Joshua Beckett Found; Foul Play Suspected." A reporter’s voice narrated the grim discovery as images of Joshua’s smiling face and the scene of the investigation played.

Peter’s eyes darkened briefly, but his movements didn’t falter. He smoothly shifted you so your back was to the screen, blocking your view entirely as he deepened the kiss.

“Peter,” you murmured against his lips, your hands gripping his shirt lightly.

“Hmm?” he responded, his voice low, his lips brushing yours with each syllable.

“Nothing,” you whispered, the thought slipping away as he kissed you again.

He swayed you both a few more steps before finally slowing to a stop, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. His forehead rested against yours as you caught your breath, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Peter’s arms tightened slightly around you, guiding your head to rest gently against his chest as the two of you continued to sway. His hand traced light, soothing circles over your back, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was calming, almost hypnotic. You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into him.

“Comfortable?” Peter murmured, his voice low and warm, close to your ear.

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Very.”

“Good.” His hand lingered on your lower back as he slowed the swaying to a near standstill. He tilted his head slightly, keeping an eye on the TV just beyond your line of sight. The news anchor’s voice faded, and the screen switched to a cheerful weather update.

Peter exhaled subtly, his grip on you shifting as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, gently, he eased back just enough to look at you. “Fixing that radio was definitely worth it,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, playful smile.

You tilted your head, catching the faint amusement in his tone. “Just the radio?”

Peter chuckled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your lips. “And maybe the dancing,” he admitted. His hand slid to your jaw, holding you steady as he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re impossible to resist, you know that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you gave a small laugh, your fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt. “Takes one to know one.”

He grinned, his hand slipping to your waist. “Touché.” His gaze softened, and he tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against yours. “Should we check on dinner before we get too distracted?”

You nodded, though you made no effort to move just yet. “Probably.”

Peter’s smile deepened, and he kissed you one more time before stepping back and reaching for your hand. “Come on, then. Let’s not burn the place down.”

The two of you moved toward the kitchen, his fingers lacing with yours as he walked beside you. It was easy, natural—like the rhythm you’d fallen into with him over the past few months. You didn’t think about anything else, just the warmth of his hand in yours and the simple comfort of his presence.

And if Peter’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you passed by the muted TV, you didn’t notice.

so in my head (even though when peter murdered betty it was completely justified, she was blackmailing him!) reader is actually the 'affair.' you're telling me that he would willingly have a relationship with a prostitute when he got upset that reader goes on a date, or even ignores him?? yeah, no. he's too obsessed. which is why i switched it and had him kill joshua.

this was going to be a short oneshot, and after the first two dates with joshua peter was going to reveal his feelings for reader and it was going to be a happy ever after, but then i thought "wait, he could just kill joshua" to keep it somewhat canon to the character of peter. and i know that all of this could've been done quicker if they just talked to each other and confessed their feelings, but as i wrote it, i made it so peter wanted you to confess to him first (which is what he heard when you left that voicemail for joshua, even though you don't know that peter heard it). he may be obsessed with you, but he still wants to know that you actually want him.

anyways, thanks for reading! and i hope it was up to y'all's standards <33

[gravenote]

this propaganda is ASSSSSSSS allow me to teach you the true madohomu story… *disclaimer* this contains blatant spoilers for the entire anime, though for the sake of clarity i'll be omitting what happens in rebellion. if you're interested at all i'd recommend just watching madoka magica, it's only 12 episodes and is about a third of the runtime of ghosts if i'm not mistaken. i think it's a very beautiful story and it changed my brain chemistry forever. here's my retelling of their story, ordered in a way to make it easy to understand without context of the rest of the show. i think this should also explain pretty succinctly why i think they deserve to win this whole poll.

after being hospitalized for some time due to a heart condition, homura akemi, 14, is discharged and able to start attending school again. because of her absence and she struggles with her schoolwork and does poorly in phys ed. she’s unintentionally overwhelmed by questions from her new classmates and shuts down until the nurse’s aide for the class, madoka kaname, steps in to escort her to the nurse’s office so she can take her medicine.

on the way home from school, homura's mind is clouded with negative thoughts. as she walks onward she eventually concludes that it would be better if she just disappeared. looking up, she finds she's wandered into the labyrinth of a witch, monsters who manipulate and feed off the suffering of people to create energy. homura doesn't know what's happening. she doesn't know what she's looking at. the witch goes in to attack her, when at the last moment she's saved by the same girl who helped her earlier that day.

madoka, along with her upperclassman mami who was also there to help, are magical girls who are granted powers to fight against witches in exchange for one wish which is granted by a little critter named kyubey.

homura follows madoka and mami in their magical girl adventures up until a massive witch, walpurgisnacht, threatens the city they live in. mami and madoka are unsuccessful in defeating the witch and lose their lives. when it seems there is no hope left, homura makes her own wish with kyubey. she wishes to redo her meeting with madoka, but instead of being protected by madoka, homura wants to become strong enough to protect her instead. with that, homura is granted the power of time travel and is transported back to the time right before she first met madoka. this time, they fight side by side.

walpurgisnacht returns and the team is once again unsuccessful. she goes back to try again. homura realizes that kyubey is tricking them. when a magical girl dies, she becomes a witch that will generate energy that benefits the goals of kyubey's species. she tries to tell the other magical girls in the city, but nobody believes her. she keeps turning back the clock. over time, her goal shifts a bit and she now wants to prevent madoka from ever making the wish with kyubey to begin with, to keep her safe. she tries again, and she fails again, countless times.

the abilities magical girls have are generally related to the wish they make, but the power, or "potential" a magical girl has is based on their "karmic destiny", essentially how important they are in the grand scheme of the world. for example, a princess or queen who is a magical girl will be more powerful than an ordinary schoolgirl who is a magical girl. madoka is, for all intents and purposes, a completely regular girl. she shouldn't have any real potential at all, but in homura's final timeline reset, she possesses more power than anyone kyubey has seen before. walpurgisnacht returns and homura faces it on her own. even with all her power, it isn't enough.

she lies defeated in the rubble of the city, and with her last remaining energy goes to reset the timeline once again. she's stopped by madoka, who, despite homura's countless attempts to stop her, makes a wish with kyubey for the very last time. her final wish is to erase all witches, past, present, and future, before they can be born, effectively erasing all magical girls too.

the only reason she has enough power to do this is because of homura. the one who was trying to stop her all this time was the one who made her unstoppable, her endless timeline resetting placing so much karmic importance on madoka that she becomes a magical girl more powerful than any ever before. essentially, a god.

madoka is rewriting the universe. she and homura float in the empty vacuum of space. madoka is no longer a person. she has become a concept that has no earthly evidence to support its existence. nobody but homura will remember her. she says goodbye to homura in their parting moment, and homura is sent back to earth, the two never to meet again.

homura must now battle "wraiths", creatures similar to witches, in order to fulfill the energy requirements demanded by kyubey's species to sustain the continued existence of the universe. she now walks the earth indefinitely, fighting alone, carried only by the knowledge that somewhere, the madoka she fought so hard for is smiling down upon her.

"If anyone tells me it's a mistake to have hope, well then, I'll just tell them, they're wrong. And I'll keep telling them until they believe. No matter how many times it takes." - madoka's quote from near the end of the show

and remember. there is NOTHING more tragic than being a middle school lesbian. real ones will know

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

some extra assorted yuri gifs that didn't fit into the post:

there's more but i ran out of space.

thank u for reading my post. i hope everyone can understand them now :-)

Tragic Ships Tournament Round 3

Capvers picture by @charlotte-fleming

Propaganda under the cut!

Madohomu:

"Sweetest girls in the whole world doomed by Madoka being really sweet and trusting (and also her desire to be a cute magical girl). Homura is fighting so hard to protect her because she thinks she's cute or whatever."

Capvers:

"One half died holding hands with the other after finally being reunited and they never got to say I love you to each other. Your faves could never"

[fandom-susceptible]

I return to the Dragon Prince fandom with the following post

First of all, can we talk about how Runaan just has not changed clothes since he woke up from being dead. This man is still wearing his ripped up assassin pants. Didn't even change before going to invoke a formal ritual to clear his daughter's name.

Also this is just a really sweet Ruthari moment, the united front to protect their daughter.

And on a less wholesome note, that little scar on Runaan's hip that his ripped up pants and riding-up shirt are showing is gonna make me act up.

Edit: so I've rewatched the episode with his revival at the end of season 6 now and must correct a mistake. That's not the same pink they use for his scars. Which means that is one of two things.

Adonis belt (hot)

Hip bone (angst, having lost that much weight starving himself)

either one is better than a random scar, but the TDP art style with shading leaves it somewhat unclear to me personally as to where that line actually rests in relation to his skeleton, which would answer the question of which it is

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Perfect 10 Liners time! Ok, Yotha, you got some crow to eat, be good to our boy.

Oh, Yotha's meter is full on broken.

Which does fit with how he is with Gun, he feels a pull, but doesn't know how to really handle it. And his kisses up to this point have felt very "do behavior A to get response B" rather than any actual desire.

Obligatory beach splashing time! Pretty sure it's law by now.

Ha, of course Fai has been leaving the door unlocked on purpose. That's a good man, because if I had people snuggling in the bed next to me every night, I would be hella annoyed.

I love that we are getting to see more Fai and Wine interactions ahead of their romance!

Part of why I didn't immediately warm to Faifa was the intensity of how he came after Wine, but now I want to go back and rewatch with the recontextualization of the new scenes. It's getting sweeter by the second.

Lol, I would so be Wine here, just like "aaaah, cute older guy is talking to me, brain no longer functioning".

Oh, they are sparking so beautifully!

I love that we get Tay just randomly popping in on occasion to be the wise sage of the group.

I'm assuming his move to Nan is going to be relevant to the FaiWine story. New location for frolics?

My theory about Arm getting drunk in every episode for the entertainment of the writers is holding up.

Oh, that is so pretty.

Now I want to be at the beach.

Oh good, we're talking about the kiss.

All that and Yotha still didn't say, "I kissed him to confirm I don't feel anything anymore"? Dude, that's the most essential piece.

Hmm, this doesn't feel super romantic to me? Maybe because I've seen what waiting around for someone can be like in real life, and most of the time it sucks.

Like I get that Gun is a very sweet, loving, kind man, but I need him to be more selfish.

Yes, perfect!

Hold those boundaries baby. He doesn't get everything when he wants you to wait.

Hmm, also with the bracelet - it just feels like Yotha wants them to be boyfriends without calling it boyfriends.

Again, not mad about any of this stuff, it all fits their characters, but it just doesn't feel romantic to me.

Ha, love the friend interactions, as always.

Wow, Yotha really be walking through the halls in those pajamas, that is an impressive level of dedication.

Gah, I just - of course Gun would be sad! I feel like there's still a lack of real honest communication here.

Fai is a whole mood, I am 100% on your side bro.

Aww, Fai getting all the birthday love is cute. And deserved!

Oh for crying out loud, Yotha, you are so in love!

Seriously, all the brothers need some therapy. Please, someone just mention the word.

Lol, Gun is not fooling his mother in the least.

Yotha doesn't want to do what Wa did, but he's still setting Gun up for hurt all the same. Not being willing to call him your boyfriend or call it love doesn't change the reality, and it would hurt just as much for things to end.

Goddamit Yotha! I was giving you grace last week, but you are straight up ticking me off now.

I know we just did this plotline with ArcArm, but I need some hottie to come flirt with Gun. Boy needs to feel desired.

This is such a sweet friend group.

I love when we get to see men taking care of one another.

Oh Fai. Always sacrificing himself.

Gun deserves so much better than this.

I mean, yes, Yotha is not wrong to say he needs time, but the hot and cold is what's super hurtful. One minute he's playing boyfriends, then he can't even smile at Gun. He's so hung up on some projection of what love is supposed to be, rather than paying attention to all the ways he genuinely does love Gun.

Yotha, you are making me want this to happen for Gun.

It's not that I don't feel for Yotha, or his struggles. I think I've just seen too many real life friends being hurt by a partner who knows they have issues, but refuses to get help or work through them in order to stop causing their partner pain. And it's really shitty.

Yes, Gun! He can take his time, but you also get to set boundaries.

Waaah, stop making my AouBoom smokers.

God I love my boys.

They are very clearly "we may be side characters in this show, but we're still gonna prove why we're the number one in physical intimacy at GMMTV".

Goddamn, Aou, how much have you been working out?!

Lifting someone your own size is freaking hard!

Ok, can our BL boys just stop ever crossing the street?

They are a very pretty couple.

Hmm, this was an interesting one. I think Yotha is just bumping up against reality a little too much for me here, which is not the fault of the show.

But at least it looks like next week Yotha may finally get his shit together!

[gayofthefae]

Get you a ship who can do both.

Yes, the love is mutual

But so is the "really? him?"

[asairayn]

OKAY HERE'S THE ANALYSIS OF ORIGINAL ECLIPSE

I LOVE THIS. such good interpretations of every version of eclipse.

I do want to talk about the original Eclipse, though, because I have a lot of thoughts on him and his motivation and his issues- I might be a little bit biased towards him (I wrote over 20k words about him over about eight months and wasn't even CLOSE to done).

So! Trying to analyze Eclipse at the very start is kind of difficult because... so much has been retconned, or forgotten about, or turned out to be just Not True- remember when Eclipse said he caused July 16th? Hard to tell whether that was him lying or something that got retconned as soon as they realized they needed a second villain.

But! from the best I can gather, largely from much later episodes that talk about the beginning, the original Eclipse was actually very heavily motivated by feeling betrayed. He actually said it himself

The original Eclipse was Moon. He started out as Moon, he had all the same memories... and then he was abandoned. Fully. Before he even existed. And then he was left in Sun's head for... an indeterminably long time (has the timeline been cleared up yet? how goddamn long before the show starts did july 16th happen?? because he was conscious in Sun's head for long enough before that to create Bloodmoon.), where he was able to hear and maybe see what was going on around Sun... but not do anything. Solitary confinement will get to anyone!

(He actually talked about that as a betrayal and how much it Sucked to be stuck in Sun's head in this clip (well. the reincarnation did. but good fucking luck finding the original eclipse talking about feelings.))

So he was Moon, and then he came to consciousness stuck in Sun's head with Moon's memories still thinking he was Moon, and then was stuck there for... a long time. He created Bloodmoon fairly early... and then was immediately abandoned again. Somehow, in however long he spent in the void in Sun's head (I have a lot of thoughts on that void, but they're not technically canon), he managed to craft himself a new identity. Because he was Moon!

And then he watched Sun and Moon get to exist and have a life while he was stuck for a long time in what was essentially solitary confinement. He hated them- he hated them a lot. It's mentioned many times, especially in the first few episodes with teaps Sun and Moon (i'm at that point in trying to catch up, so. i don't know whatever's happened beyond that), that Eclipse fucking hated being stuck in Sun's head- he hated loss of control, he hated having to watch.

And it shows in what he was trying to do! He hated Moon for abandoning him, and he hated Sun for not letting him have control... so he tortured Moon and completely revoked all control from Sun. Technically his goal in that era is to get the star, to... erase the world and make it better, or something, but. To me, that doesn't show at all- he doesn't act like that's his goal, he mostly acts like that's a fun pastime while he tries to lock Sun and Moon away permanently.

That all doesn't work, evidently. Lunar betrays him, which everybody but him expected, and lets Moon help Sun figure out what the hell to do, and eventually Eclipse gets killed/expelled from Sun's head. Goodbye to the original Eclipse, sucks to suck loser, shouldn't have abused your brother.

But the original Eclipse, at his core, hated Moon for abandoning him but hated Sun for locking him away.

He was mostly motivated by hatred- he'd had a long time to stew in it. He had a lot of abandonment issues and a lot of spite.

Quite literally, at that time, the only way that he could have any kind of control was by shoving Sun into his own head... which made both Sun and Moon hate him more. There wasn't actually any way he could take control without pissing them off- excluding maybe communication, but it's Eclipse. and he'd have to be communicating with Moon (notoriously bad at communication). He also had zero communication skills- he was Moon and then spent a long time unable to talk to anyone.

BUT THE JULY 16TH THING THAT I MENTIONED EARLIER IS IMPORTANT. I forgot I was going to talk about that.

So! The biggest thing that made Sun and Moon hate Eclipse from the beginning was that he claimed he was the one who took over Sun's body and killed a bunch of children on July 16th. Well, technically, he may have just said that he caused it and let Sun and Moon come to their own conclusions about how- but in the beginning, he was definitely saying that he was the one who killed people on July 16th.

And... that was a lie. Or retconned. Hard to say. You could technically say that he did still cause July 16th by creating Bloodmoon, but that's still a different thing. He didn't take control and murder children with his own hands- he created a person who got bored and took control to murder children.

But that means that Sun and Moon originally hated him for something he didn't do. They had other reasons to dislike him, sure, and he certainly gave them more reasons, but. The original thing wasn't actually him.

That has very little actual bearing on anything. They don't bring that up- it's not a Thing. but. it means something to me, I suppose. When Eclipse first showed up, the only Bad Thing™ that he'd done directly was take control by force. He portrayed himself from the beginning as the Big Bad, but he hadn't really done anything yet. I'm sure at least part of that was because- at least from what I can tell- they didn't actually have any plans for Bloodmoon yet so at that point he was the July 16th killer, but retcons just mean more fun for me.

Eclipse intentionally showed himself as the Bad Guy. He hated Moon for abandoning him, hated Sun because he was stuck in his head, and everything he did for the first few months was just... based in the kill code. He basically just did violence, until he started fucking with Sun and Moon, at which point he was filled with so much spite he couldn't be convinced to do anything else- and they didn't try.

Eclipse threatened Sun- the only person who Moon cared about ("Hi, I'm Moondrop, I don't care about anybody aside from my brother."). No matter what, Moon was going to hate him from that point on. Eclipse started by doing the one thing that Moon would not tolerate.

And then Eclipse created Lunar, for... somewhat vague reasons. And was awful to him, somewhat unsurprisingly. And, because he was horrible to Lunar, he would NEVER be forgiven (Until he came back from the third time, and was enough of a new person for Earth- who also Wasn't There- to not care).

I'm... very clearly biased towards the original Eclipse. I hate him so much and I've written so much about him and everything I wrote keeps being proven correct EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY TALK ABOUT THE ORIGINAL ECLIPSE.

Um. I'll be honest I don't actually know where the fuck I was going with this and I maybe just wanted an excuse to scream about Eclipse. And accidentally wrote over a thousand words of it.

Is there a certain way you go about the characterizations of the different incarnations of Eclipse?

Their motivations!

So at his core, Eclipse is an angry, paranoid, spiteful, arrogant, lonely, possessive, socially-inept person who can't communicate to save his own life. No matter where in his life you're writing him from, these traits persist.

The differences come in what his goal is, and which of his core traits are being amplified because of it.

I've written the Original Eclipse the least, mostly because I actually got interested in the show following his death 8'D. This Eclipse is the most closed off of all of them, the least likely to change his mind, the angriest and most vindictive. He hasn't been betrayed yet, he hasn't really failed yet, so his arrogance is at an all time high.

On the flip side, after his defeat and expulsion from Sun's head, this is also the rawest point in Eclipse's life. There's a lot of good fics about scraping his broken ass out of the woods and patching him up, and for good reason. Strip his arrogance away with his loss, and he has nothing.

My favorite is the Backup Eclipse. Eclipse 2.0, my beloved! Still arrogant, still angry, but spite is his strongest trait. He was defeated and he knows it, and he's learned that he needs to be a bit smarter in manipulating those around him. By escalating the game to the next level when he amplified Moon's kill code (giving us the guy, Kill Code), Eclipse started a chain reaction that is STILL going on in current canon.

The Backup is my favorite because his characterization runs from one end of the spectrum to the other. He comes back as a bedraggled version of himself, forced to deal with basically being Bloodmoon's prisoner while also getting them to work for him. He manages to enact one victory after another, culminating in him actually gaining the star. He did it, he won!

And then he fucking crashes.

Possession and loneliness are his strongest traits in the second half of his arc, and he picks up depression as well. Spite has become bitterness. Eclipse was never supposed to win, and he knows it. The star was only ever a means to an end, a way to get Moon's attention. And when Moon resets himself... Eclipse doesn't know what to do. He attempts to respark that rivalry, but New Moon isn't interested.

With no goal to latch on to, Eclipse crumples under his own misery and lack of purpose. On his way to winning, he destroyed everything that made his life interesting.

And then he got space lasered.

And then finally Eclipse 3.0, the Recreated Eclipse. I don't make a distinction between who he was before Lunar blew up his body and after, though I know some folks do.

Eclipse 3.0 starts off with anger, of course, and a lot of confusion and desperation. For a good amount of time in there he was p much feral. This one is mired in self-pity, and lashes out because of it.

Because that's what makes this one really interesting. He's picking up from where the Backup left off-- he has no purpose. I think he sunk his claws into the goal of 'find my creator' just to HAVE a goal. He's also interacting regularly with other people for the first time in his life(s), even if he does spend a lot of time taunting Moon for stuff that neither of them were personally there for.

Two things, I think, really helped Eclipse start stabilizing. The first was, uh. Solar's death 8'D More specifically, it was Puppet giving him an impossible task to focus on, and Eclipse always needs a goal. The second was Earth started socializing him. Which I love-- hell, I wrote that myself back in Sunk Cost. Earth always had the advantage of not being personally victimized by Eclipse like her siblings were, which let her be more tolerant of him.

Eclipse in his current state is still arrogant and possessive, and his people skills still suck. He's 'better' as a kind of side effect to Puppet's request; bringing Solar back, doing this Super Important Thing That Even Moon Failed At? Was a major ego boost. Eclipse learned a very important lesson:

Doing good things gets you attention and praise.

Which is why I think he had such a rocky start with the new dimension Sun and Moon 8'D He was chasing the high of being the hero, at the cost of actually paying attention to what was going on. He knew how things were supposed to go, that made him The Smartest. He's a good guy for extremely selfish reasons XD

But he's also finally made it to where a lot of fanfic authors have gotten him. A little less lonely, a few wounds healed. He does have people he cares about, without any intent for manipulation involved.

So yeah. I guess in summary:

Original Eclipse (Upright): Vindictive, angry. Would bite your hand off rather than take it Original Eclipse (Reversed): Lost, bewildered. A feral animal, but one that can be tamed.

Backup Eclipse (Upright): Spiteful, serious. Lost the game once already, has no intention of losing again. Backup Eclipse (Reversed): Bitter, desolate. An Eclipse without a purpose, can be coaxed onto new paths. Still will probably bite you a few times first. Recreated Eclipse (Upright): Arrogant, possessive. The end goal of many a fanfic, actually able to get along as a functional member of society... mostly. Recreated Eclipse (Reversed): Feral, desperate. Clinging onto what fragments he has in a life he didn't ask for, and hating every second of it.

Idk if that was useful but there you go!!!

[manchesterau]

[laniidae-passerine]

catch me laughing in the club awkwardly because this season has a 19 year old blonde female companion from London, a space travelling left of law brunette queer boy who flirts heavily with the doctor, absolutely zero writers of colour and no mention of sensitivity readers…….and next season the new companion is a woman of colour. uh oh!

[jakeroo123]

This time, three of the options got no votes at all! That's probably in part because of there being fewer votes, but it's still notable. So, people believe in Team Rocket's ability not to be recognized, that Buizel can fly, and that Ash survives an orbital strike Magikarp. And, yes, all of these are real!

Like last time, one option ran away with a lot more votes than any of the others. Then, it was about Pikachu devolving into Pichu, this time it was about Red making an on-screen appearance in one episode.

Also like last time, that was the wrong answer. I'll give episode numbers and screenshots showing that these are real.

But, firstly, the correct answer, which only two people (aside from me) voted for:

James disguises his left half as Jessie so the twerps think she's there

What actually happened was that Jessie disguised her right half as James in BW141, which looks the same, and I was banking on people remembering that wrong.

James has disguised himself as Jessie. But it was all of him, not just half, and he was also specifically disguised as Jessie in disguise.

Anyway, now on to the rest.

All damage necessary to disable a Rocket mecha is dealt by Ash himself

EP136: Chikorita's Big Upset

I'm fairly certain this happens multiple times, but the instance I was thinking of was this one, where Ash physically tears the antenna off of Team Rocket's mecha of the day, causing it to go crazy and explode. The only Pokémon to attack it was Pikachu, and naturally it was immune to his attacks.

Team Rocket wears disguises with the 'R' shirts visible, it works anyway

DP004: Dawn Of A New Era!

How. Look at that image. Explain to me how this worked.

Ash catches a Legendary Pokémon with his bare hands

JN146: Ash and Latios

Look! He caught Latias as she was falling! There's probably other instances of stuff like this too, but also he wore gloves up until Sun and Moon so they might not count.

Ash survives a hit from an orbital strike Magikarp

JN026: Splash, Dash, and Smash for the Crown! / Slowking's Crowning!

Pictured: The instant before impact. And, yes, the Magikarp was in space before, it jumped up there earlier in the episode.

A random Buizel flies in the air like Tails from Sonic

DP011: Mounting a Coordinator Assault!

This is just a random coordinator's appeal. Buizel can just do that.

Kyogre and Groudon collide, and then morph and combine into a single Mew

JN134: In the Palms of our Hands!

Mew was able to transform into both Groudon and Kyogre simultaneously (off-screen), and then turns back. ... Yeah Mew can do that for some reason.

Team Rocket forcibly recruits the narrator for a radio show

JN106: Radio Lulled the Mischievous Stars!

What fourth wall? Honestly this one's pretty amazing just for the visual, you can see Wobbuffet holding up a microphone for him as he holds a piece of paper. How does a disembodied voice do that? Good question!

Ash runs up a wall so that he can clean the floor better than Team Rocket

[This one I just included a video of the event described]

EP244: Enlighten Up!

Honestly, just don't question the crazy stuff Ash does. He's just like that.

Mallow gets a Shaymin with her dead mother's eyes right after meeting her ghost

SM108: Memories in the Mist!

The last screenshot is from SM142, and just to be clear that is not what sky form Shaymin's eyes normally look like.

Red makes a single on-screen appearance as a separate character from Ash

AG086: Lights, Camerupt, Action!

I love exact words. Red is a character in a movie Ash likes. Therefore, he's on-screen. This is also the only episode he appears in so it counts anyway. Rather than the games version of Red, this is actually the version from Pokémon Pocket Monsters.

Meowth claims to have learned Night Slash, but never uses it out of fear

[No Screenshot]

DP103: Jumping Rocket Ship!

Meowth claims to be learning Night Slash, but says it's too scary to use. Fun fact, even if this is true, that still only makes it Meowth's fourth move, after Fury Swipes, Scratch, and Bite (which he last used when it was still a Normal-type move)

Pokémon the Series: eleven truths, one lie (round 2!)

Yep, I'm doing this again! So, as it turns out when you have an animated series with over 1,200 episodes a whole bunch of stuff happens.

Each of these except one describes something which happened in a main-series episode of Pokémon, somewhere between the original series and To Be a Pokémon Master. Nothing from the movies, Horizons, side episodes, or other animated series is here!

Without further ado...

This was so much fun last time, so I'm happy to do it again! Have fun! At the end of the week I'll reblog with episode numbers for the real ones, just like last time.

[psychomusic]

i started watching tbb but. it's so surface level. does it get better?? I'm super disappointed by the s1 finale

[bubblesandpages]

So on the topic of Claire's nearly fatal allergy oversight, isn't there a direct parallel with that in how Carmy, Richie, Sydney, hell, all of the kitchens, servers, and chefs we see over the course of the show treat allergies, and how meticulous they are with finding alternatives for each element in a dish?

[puppppppppy]

Atla live action 😐

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[repurposedmeatlocker]

The idea of King of the Hill having a revival in this era of US politics is so scary to me. Lots of directions the show can go and I'm not sure if I like any of them.